


Equal Partnership

by o0katiekins0o



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0katiekins0o/pseuds/o0katiekins0o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An equal partnership in parenting is a hard thing to do when biology dictates the Molly must take on the bulk of their son's care. Still Sherlock makes a concerted effort. This is what happens when a series of mishaps and a rude server nearly ruin date night. What are the new parents to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equal Partnership

**Author's Note:**

> Just a cute idea I had while on vacation with my family.

They didn't get to do it often. And although it hadn't been that important to them before, now that they were parents, Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper made special effort to take time to go out for a meal together. 

If, for no other reason, than to get a break from takeout or whatever meal Molly could manage to throw together in her state of exhaustion. Giving her an excuse to change into something that was not caked in spit-up was also a plus. 

Despite Sherlock's desire and efforts to be an equal partner in parenting, he couldn't breastfeed or take maternity leave, so the bulk of his son's care fell to Molly.

Sherlock had his responsibilities: bathing him, rocking him upright after feeds when Thad was colicky and diapering whenever he was available to do so. He also did what he could to tend upon Molly's needs. 

Tonight was their night. They'd lined up a sitter, Molly had enough pumped milk frozen to keep him in feeds during their absence and they had a late reservation to ensure that Thaddeus would be drowsy and nearing his bed time when they departed. 

First issue came when Molly took a call from the restaurant informing them a mix up had occurred with their reservation. They had accidentally booked them for a 7 pm table rather than the 9 pm they'd planned for. Molly thought it would be alright, she would just reschedule with the sitter. 

However the sitter was not available that early and Mrs. Hudson would be working on her first soother of the evening and neither of them were particularly comfortable with leaving their 4 month old with an elderly woman in that state.

Molly sighed as she thought about the wasted breastmilk thawed on her counter. It would not get used within 24 hours, so it was a loss. She tried not to shed a tear for the lost time and effort she endured to express those precious few milliliters.

Crestfallen, she fired off a quick text to Sherlock.

_Mix up with reservation, no sitter. Dinner is off. -MH_

Then, with a sniff, examined the edible contents of their freezer to determine what sort of meal she could throw together last minute. Her text alert chimed.

_Don't be ridiculous, we'll take Thaddeus along. He'll hardly be any trouble. -SH_

Molly brightened, although slightly wary of how this would work. She'd only taken him out to the shops and other brief errands. She hadn't spent a significant amount of time out with him since they brought him home from hospital. But his colic seemed to be reduced since their efforts to keep him upright while he nursed and slept. As well as cutting out certain offending foods from her diet. 

 _This could work._ She told herself. At any rate, they were in desperate need of groceries and wouldn't be able to throw anything like a complete meal together without rushing out. And the thought of another night of bland takeaway made her want to scream. 

She was optimistic when she laid Thad on his play mat while she dressed and took a little time to apply make-up. She wasn't red carpet ready but it was a big improvement from the crusty jumper and yoga pants she had been living in for the past 3 days. 

She was even hopeful when she discovered she could fit a few nappies, wipes and extra clothes for Thad in her regular handbag instead of hauling out the bulky nappy bag.

She even allowed herself the luxury of being excited when she realized her ring sling with the pretty yellow and grey floral pattern went beautifully with her outfit.

It would work. They would bring Thaddeus along while they enjoy a quiet, lovely meal she wouldn't have to cook or clean up after. The three of them together, almost like a normal family. 

Almost. 

Sherlock arrived at Baker Street, his hair a wreck, scabbed over knuckles, a fat lip and the piece du resistance: a fresh black eye nearly swollen shut.

Wonderful.

"Molly you look lovely." He announced before dropping a careful kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

"You look tenderized." Molly replied. "What the hell happened?!" 

"Oh this?" He gestured to his purple, bleeding face. As if she could possibly be talking about something else. "Nothing serious. You should see the other guy... well the other guy and his motorbike." Even after a pounding he managed to look smug. 

"We can't do this tonight." Molly sighed in resignation. 

"Don't be ridiculous, just need a few minutes to freshen up and we'll be off." 

Molly opened her mouth to protest. 

"Molly, I'm starving. I've had rather a rough day and I'd just like to have a meal with my partner and my son without any more fuss." He waved his hand, dismissively before turning on his heels and strolling through the bathroom. Clearly that was his final word on the matter.

She could hear water running in the sink and a pained hiss of indrawn breath as he put himself together for their evening out.

He exited approximately 15 minutes later, looking marginally better. His hair was smoothed down, face scrubbed clean of the lingering encrusted blood and a cut over his eye rather than angry purple swelling. Clearly he'd drained it so he could at least open it normally, even if it still looked rather painful. 

But in a fresh shirt and his fitted trousers he still looked remarkably handsome.

The bastard.

In a gentlemanly gesture, he helped Molly into her coat before shrugging into his own belstaff, planting a kiss on Thaddeus's cheek and walked out of the flat with his little family tucked proudly under his arm. 

Thad nestled quietly against Molly's chest throughout the ride and it began to look as though he very well may nap through this outing. Which was a double edged sword. On the one hand it bode well for a peaceful dinner, but they would pay for it later that night when he was awake and wanting attention and stimulation from his parents. 

They were seated shortly after their arrival at the restaurant although Molly couldn't help but notice sideways glances and murmurs from the other patrons. True they were an unusual sight to behold, Sherlock with his face quite a bit worse for wear pulling out her chair for her to sit. Not to mention a bundle snuggled in a sling at her chest.

Isn't it some sort of unwritten rule that children don't belong at restaurants that charge more than 50 pounds a plate? She had always quietly judged those parents who brought their disruptive children to clearly non child-friendly environments. She'd vowed long ago that she would never be one of "those parents". That was before she realized how much that meant she would be giving up.

Practically everything. 

Even her few trips with him to the shops had earned her rolled eyes and grumbles from those nearby any time Thad deigned to make a peep. When had the world become so unfriendly to children? Molly silently took back any time she'd ever judged a parent for simply trying to live their lives with children in tow.

Sherlock, however seemed completely unfazed by their scowls despite, no doubt, already having deduced their reasons. 

"Ignore them, Molly. Their opinions are irrelevant." He said, seating himself across from her and taking her hand in his. "Most of their offspring spend the majority of their lives with nannies before being shipped off to boarding school. Altogether I'd calculate they've spent less than 2 uninterrupted hours with their children on any given day. Hardly model parents." 

"How do you-? Nevermind." Molly sighed and shook her head. Their waiter arrived and took their drink order as Sherlock and Molly settled into conversation. Molly pressed him for details of his latest case but he simply sniffed apathetically. 

"Just a six. Boring. Although I'm sure John's version in the blog will be sufficiently harrowing. I'd rather have been at home. What adventures did you and Thad get up to today?" He asked with genuine interest. 

"The usual. I nursed young sir while I watched crap telly, polished off the last of the chocolate digestives, he wouldn't go down in his cot when he fell asleep so I had to hold him while he napped until I had to wee so bad I thought I would burst. Thankfully, Mrs. Hudson came up to pay us a visit but lectured me through the door of the toilet about how letting him fall asleep at the breast was a bad habit, and that American mums make their babies self settle at 3 months. Oh and we hold him too much and it's spoiling him. Then when he was ready for a feed she talked about how big he is and how perhaps it's time to top him up with formula, to make sure he's getting enough." Molly sighed in exasperation while Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"Did you explain the research from Dr. Sears, Dr. Gordon and Dr. McKenna?" Sherlock asked. Between the pair of them they had, frankly, done an obsessive amount of research when it came to the raising of their child. 

"No, Sherlock, I did not give Mrs. Hudson a dissertation on Attachment Theory." Molly replied. 

"Then tell her to go away." Sherlock said flippantly. He did all the time. Molly was a softer touch and patiently listened to all of Mrs. Hudson's "advice" graciously whilst simultaneously ignoring it. She loved Mrs. Hudson but she wasn't really looking for parenting advice from a childless mob wife and former stripper. She knew Mrs. Hudson meant well and only wanted to feel like she was contributing, so Molly did her best to smile and nod and say "I'll look into that, thanks." At every unsolicited pearl of "wisdom".

"I didn't have to." Molly grinned "Thad spat up on her so she rushed back downstairs and didn't come back up." 

Sherlock chuckled deeply, "You had a more interesting day than me, I assure you."

Molly was hoping Sherlock was about to get into the details of his case, a boring six sounded so much more interesting than her life of bulb syringes and swaddling blankets. But the waiter arrived with a tumbler of very fine scotch for Sherlock, a glass of red wine for Molly and a lovely starter of prosciutto wrapped pear slices with balsamic vinegar that they dug into enthusiastically after giving him their orders for a main course. Sherlock ordered the filet and after entirely too much deliberation Molly settled on the sea bass with raspberry gelee' that Sherlock recommended.

Despite his usual selections in sustenance Molly found that, when he had a mind for it, Sherlock was a gourmand of an Epicurean scale. Based on Sherlock's near-fetishism of food, Mycroft's general lack of willpower and Thad's voracity (four months old and had already doubled his birth weight) it seemed the love of a good meal was a genetic trait passed down through the Holmes line. No wonder Mummy (she insisted on being called 'Mummy' the moment she and Molly were introduced.) became such a skilled cook.

Speaking of, she could hear Thad's tiny coos as he began to rut into her chest searching for his own supper, before pulling his chubby fist into his mouth and sucking loudly when his search came up empty.

Molly had to put a stop to that. If she let him, he would suck his fist until it blistered. While still in the sling she discreetly redirected him toward the breast, nose to nipple, he latched immediately and Molly was free to resume her own meal hands-free, forking another pear slice and adding it to her small starter plate. 

Sherlock finally began to regale her with the tale of his case but it mostly turned into a complaint about how the staff in the lab and morgue were almost worse than useless. "It's criminal how poor they are at their jobs, Molly. And they have your filing system completely upside down and backward."

Molly groaned. "My work will be cut out for me when I go back." She sighed looking down at their little Thaddeus. She did not relish the hours with him she will miss while correcting all the sloppiness her replacements will have left her to clean up before she will even be able to start being productive but she missed work. 

"How is introducing the bottle going?" Sherlock asked. When she returned to work she would be keeping him in the creche and the workers there will be feeding him expressed milk in a bottle and she will come in on her breaks to nurse.

"Not good." She confessed. "He won't take it. I read that babies sometimes won't take the bottle while their mums are still in the room. He's stubborn and uncompromising. I wonder where he gets that..." Molly shot him a wry grin. 

Sherlock smirked back. "Let the workers at the creche handle it. He'll take the bottle when he gets hungry and realizes his mum isn't about to cater to his whims." He said around a mouthful of food.

Molly nodded, happy to have her desire to pass the buck validated by her partner. She'll say it was his idea if the time ever came that she was cornered by a creche worker accusing her of bringing in a time bomb rather than a baby. 

They were too engrossed in their own conversation to notice the increased sneers and throat clearing coming from a nearby table. 

It wasn't until the waiter arrived with their meals and nervously leaned down to speak to them in a hushed tone.

"I'm very sorry madame, but some of the other patrons have complained. Is there any way I could persuade you to take your baby somewhere more private to uh... Er... Feed?" 

Molly colored with humiliation. "I'm sorry I thought I'd been... I mean, you can't even see..."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed angrily as the waiter continued, "We have a very comfortable lounge in the ladies' where you might enjoy more privacy..."

Sherlock scoffed loudly at this. "Don't pretend you are suggesting this is for her benefit."

The waiter raised his chin haughtily, "I'm very sorry, it's my duty to see to the comfort of our patrons and-"

"Are we not patrons? Is this not our order you've just brought?" Sherlock indicated to the steaming plates before them. 

"No sir, that is your order it's just-"

"How, exactly, is depriving me the company of my partner, and forcing her to feed our son in the toilet while her food goes cold seeing to _our_ comfort? Particularly when the complaining party could just as easily look away if they're so damned bothered?!" He raised his voice at the last line blatantly staring in the direction of the table where the complaining party sat.

Molly almost felt sympathy for the poor sod who was only trying to do his job, although he was not doing it very well. 

"I-I'm very sorry, sir I only meant-" he stammered, taken aback. He did not expect this type of resistance.

"Oh yes, do get your story straight as you are presently breaking the law." Sherlock demanded.

The waiter gulped. "I'm very sorry sir I wasn't aware."

"Clearly." Sherlock sniffed and waved him away. The waiter scurried off, shamefaced.

Sherlock returned to his plate, raising his fork and knife when he spared a glance at Molly who was smoldering at him.

"I'm sorry, darling I was only trying to-" He began.

Molly shook her head and smiled. "Sherlock, you've no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now. I love it when you're righteously indignant." 

Sherlock grinned and prayed to whatever powers that be that Thad gives them some peace and quiet tonight. 

They fell into a comfortable silence as they casually ate, occasionally making comments on the food or atmosphere. Thad finished nursing and Molly shifted him upward to rock and pat his back to help keep his tummy settled.

Sherlock put down his fork and knife and reached across the table gesturing for her to hand over the baby.

"It's alright, Sherlock."  She smiled.

"It's not, we agreed this was my job, and I haven't held him all day. Finish your food, I'll hold him." 

Molly obeyed, passing Thad over the table into Sherlock's arms. He made small noises of distress at being removed from his comfortable position at his mum's chest. Sherlock held him close and shushed him comfortingly. 

Molly ate peacefully, beaming at the sight of her two favorite men sharing a moment. 

Thad fisted his father's shirt and settled his chubby dimpled cheek against his shoulder, sweet pink lips pouting and blue eyes looking into the matching pair of the man holding him. 

He made a sweet, breathy "kee" sound as he smiled and Molly could see Sherlock melting. "Hullo, Thaddeus. I missed you today." He murmured softly against his cheek.

He planted a peck on the baby's tiny nose then Thad reached up to grip his father's in response. Sherlock chuckled as his son traced his face with his plump fingers. Familiarizing himself with the features of this strange not-mummy person, he'd decided was quite nice too, even if he didn't make milk.

Sherlock gave a little sigh of contentment at the tiny person in his arms and settled him into position where he could free one arm to eat with. 

Molly set to work cutting his meat in small chunks for him so he could easily fork them with his free hand and they could continue their meal at something like the same pace.

They conversed happily, Thaddeus interjecting with his own happy coos and giggles to which Sherlock responded, "Is that right?" And "Tell me about it."

Not long after their plates were cleared and they were debating whether to have dessert there or pick something up on the way home, a dark red v-shape appeared on Thad's forehead, clearly bearing down on a large poop. 

Molly reached for him but Sherlock shook his head. "Nappy changes are my job when I'm not working. We agreed."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Sherlock I don't think the men's room here will have a changing table." 

"Nonsense. Surely by the 21st century, it's been discovered that men are perfectly capable of changing a nappy." He took a fresh nappy and the wipes Molly had in her purse and headed toward the loos. 

After not finding a changing table in the front he checked the disabled stall only to discover it was also devoid of a changing table. Looking around he determined that there was enough counterspace to change Thad near the sink. 

Frustrated with this night, the mix up with the reservation, Molly's much bemoaned wasted Breastmilk (although Sherlock had assured her he'd use it for an experiment) and how shitty their nearby patrons were. Not to mention the complete audacity of the waiter to ask Molly to feed his son in the toilets and now no changing station in the men's room. He gave a wicked smile as an awful idea came to him. 

He strolled back through the restaurant with a content and clean baby in his arms and clutching something else in his hand. When he returned to the table the check had arrived and Molly was signing the restaurant copy of the receipt. 

"I'll handle the tip, Molly. Take Thad, we'll go to the bakery on the corner and get a dessert to take home." She beamed as she agreed, slipping little Thad into her sling and walking toward the Lobby. 

When Molly turned away he looked at the table and sneered. Using the pen with which Molly had signed the receipt he scratched a quick note at the top, placed his cargo on the table and followed after Molly with a self satisfied smirk.

They were gone several minutes when the waiter came to pick up the signed receipt copy and a foul smell caught his attention. Looking down he saw the receipt, a note scrawled at the top read:

"Your tip reflects your service."

And beside it was Thad's reeking soiled nappy.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't done this, I swear (I use cloth nappies so the dirties come home with me) but I'd be lying if I said I didn't fantasize about doing this when service is bad simply because he dared to bring our children along.
> 
> Also the law Sherlock is informing the server he is breaking is the Equality Act of 2010. In Britain, service industries are not allowed to refuse or offer altered or diminished service to a mother simply because she is breastfeeding.


End file.
